The Nici

I was inexplicably excited to be going to Bournemouth, although the promise of a ‘Top Five European Beach’ in a stonkingly hot summer probably had something to do with it. A beach with sand, no less (I live on the coast but much further east, where it’s positively pebbly: not a proper beach). I’m also quite partial to a bit of wealth-watching, so the palatial villas and private-beach vibes of Branksome Chine and swanky Sandbanks only added to the allure.  

Most of my childhood holidays were spent in traditional English seaside towns, but for some reason we never made it to Bournemouth, not that anything like The Nici existed then. Now, travelling with my own Mini Smith, I could relive my childhood holidays but with a much welcome dollop of Mr & Mrs Smith magic.  

The Nici — pronounced Nicky, not Nee-Chi or Nee-See as I had been calling it, much to my local friends’ amusement — opened its doors on West Cliff three years ago, after a complete refurb and rebrand from its previous incarnation, The Savoy. I’d heard that central Bournemouth wasn’t all that nice, but you certainly wouldn’t know that from the immediate surrounds of the hotel. So far, so good.  

As soon as you walk in, it’s clear what’s what. Enrobed guests mill about pre or post spa treatments, as glammed up groups slink down to the bar. It’s shiny, chic and stylised and obviously trying hard — and in all fairness, succeeding — to make you feel as if you’re in Miami. And after three hours in the car with a toddler, this could not have been more welcome.  

Nor could the ease of parking (something I have come to prioritise since becoming a parent), as out popped a tanned and T-shirted valet, who sorted all that out and sent our pile of bags upstairs. 

Our big, airy room had a frankly unimprovable sea view, while also overlooking the 30-metre heated outdoor pool, to where we immediately headed to cool off. A smaller indoor pool is part of the spa, but the outdoor one, with sunloungers, a bar, garden games and beach access (via a gate at the bottom), is where you want to be.   

The following morning, we headed out to explore, taking the ride-all-day open-top bus tour (featuring local history and foliage — unusually tall pine trees and seagrass meadows abound: the bay has its own microclimate) to Sandbanks Beach via the chines of Alum and Branksome. I clocked at least 28 dream houses.  

Lunch was a brilliant seafood affair at Shell Bay Restaurant, reached via the swift chain ferry from Sandbanks to Shell Bay (the closest bit of the Studland Peninsula). Great food, good wine list and a peerless setting — it’s literally on the beach. Both Shell Bay and Sandbanks beaches were sensationally spotless, with crystal-clear water. Peeling ourselves and our full tummies off the beach, we made our way back to the bus via a quick glass of cold verdejo at Rick Stein’s Sandbanks gaff (there’s always more room for wine).  

It doesn’t take long to feel at home at The Nici, and despite this part of Dorset offering so much to do, by day two it was just too tempting to make the most of the everything-on-tap set-up.   

It’s basically against my religion to sit in a hotel and not explore but I tell you what, The Nici makes a very compelling case for doing just that. In the end, we did leave the premises (by not much distance) to hang out on the main beach, directly below. Unfortunately, that top-five ranking didn’t mean anything to Mini Smith who quickly insisted on going back to the pool. Something I didn’t really mind, however, given the proximity to decent cocktails and salty snacks.  

And after a languid lunch of steak, salad and a cool Cali red at the South Beach restaurant, it was back to the room for an entirely unearned afternoon nap on our massive bed.  

By Friday evening, the beautifuls of Bournemouth descended, and although still family-friendly, the pool became a bit more tits, tats and tans (all of which I lack). But it was far from offputting, and if anything all the more entertaining for a spot of eavesdropping, I mean, people-watching.   

My only grumbles were the parking charge (£27 a day, which I thought was a bit punchy — I’d assumed hotel car parks were free for guests), the minibar fridge that just didn’t really work (but do they ever? They sent someone to try and fix it, followed by plenty of ice buckets instead) and it was difficult to get through on the phone line, but the receptionist assured me they have a huge number of calls and judging by how helpful the staff were at dealing with other issues, I have no reason to disbelieve her.  

Would I go back? Absolutely. Is it worth the money? Yes. With or without kids? I was very impressed by how they’ve managed to mix in child-friendly features without ruining the glamourous vibe for everyone else. You wouldn’t think an interior that’s 90 per cent white angles would work for little children, yet somehow it does. And as much as I’d love to have some me time in the spa when I return, how could I possibly deny my son another swim in his favourite pool ever?